


it's the little things

by Silverine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, It's just an ode to Lance's qualities, Love Confessions, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Pining Keith (Voltron), Quantum Abyss (Voltron), canon? we don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverine/pseuds/Silverine
Summary: “Why him?” asks Krolia suddenly, and her son looks at her, surprised.Well. If he has to give her a reason, he'd say... it's just the little things.All of them.Or, Keith and Krolia share a moment at the Quantum Abyss, discussing Keith's feelings for Lance.





	it's the little things

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I don't have a julance piece but take these 3k words of Keith explaining why he loves Lance as my tribute. Hope you enjoy!

“Why him?” asks Krolia suddenly, and her son looks at her, surprised.

After more than a year having each other as their only company, and looking into each other’s memories as their only real occupation, there aren’t many untouched topics left to discuss between mother and son. Keith thought that trusting this stranger, forcefully labeled as “family”, would take him longer. 

Turns out, warming up to someone is much easier when you are stuck with them aboard an interdimensional whale for an entire year, forced to team up to survive and keep your sanity intact. 

But even so, the question still comes as a surprise to Keith. He knows who she is talking about, and it's a bit shocking. Until now, they have tried to stay away from heavy topics, tiptoeing around those memories that get too personal, too invasive.

He should have guessed it, though. After all, it’s not like Krolia is blind; with the latest flashbacks, anyone with two working eyes and a functional brain would probably come up with the same question sooner than later. And now that his mother’s eyes are focused on him, intense and intimidating, Keith can recognize his own honesty in them. She is not asking to pry. She is seriously wondering _why_.

So he seriously gives his answer, one that rolls out of his tongue with surprising ease, considering it's the first time he admits it.

“I guess… it's the little things,” he declares. He gazes into the yellowish extension of the exotic scenery, feeling his heart come alive together with his memories, as he adds: “Yeah. That seems about right.”

“Is that so?” asks Krolia, raising a leg to support her arm on her knee, and then her jaw on her fist. She is not asking him to elaborate, but her posture says she is ready for a long conversation if needed. Keith snorts at that, surrounding his own legs with his arms. 

“I suppose. I don’t really know how it happened, either.”

“But it happened.”

Keith sighs, hiding a tiny smile.

“Yeah.”

If there’s any proof of how much this experience has changed him, it’s this simple admission. If anyone dared asking him the same question just a while ago, he would have answered something entirely different. For starters, he would have probably denied it to death. 

Admitting to catching feelings for any teammate was already a stretch. Admitting to falling specifically for Lance McClain, though, wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

“I used to hate him,” he confesses. Then he pauses. Reconsiders. Tries again. “No. More like, I used to hate the things he would provoke in me.”

Because, for someone like him, coming fresh from a year of heartbreak and isolation preceded by such a crooked childhood, someone like Lance was like the human version of a very noisy alarm clock. Waking him up from the numbness of his distrust and resentment, forcing him to move, to speak for himself, to fight, to _feel_ things.

Hate was a strong word, but so were his feelings about this strange boy who came out of nowhere and started messing with his pace, so he had no better name for it for a while. But then, somewhere between their first meeting and Keith’s departure with the Blades, Lance managed to carve a hole into his heart and stay there, like a permanent presence. One that can soothe him and also throw him into the worst insomnia nights; a complete stranger, breaching his most sturdy walls.

 _'How the hell did that even happen'_ is what Keith has asked himself a thousand times before, and what he believes Krolia wants to know now. Maybe in answering her, he will also answer himself, at last.

“It’s funny, you know?” he says. “When we met, he was mad at me because I didn’t even remember we had seen each other before. I had no idea who he was."

"And now we see him every other day," comments Krolia, looking as if she is holding back a smirk.

Keith blushes. The images are nothing he can control, which makes them a bit humiliating.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," he mumbles.

"Nothing to be sorry about," retorts Krolia, welcoming back their newest companion who comes running at them to sit in his favorite spot: Keith's legs. The little cosmic wolf is not so little anymore, but the human doesn't have the heart to let him know that yet. He just scratches him behind the ears, feeling his weight and relaxing into the touch of its soft mane.

He never had a pet before, the same way he didn't have a mom or a mission. Space really gave him all those gifts. So it's a bit absurd that, among so many exciting things, falling in love would still be the most unexpected of his new experiences. But it is. It truly is the thing he was most unprepared for.

"It's funny," he repeats, now letting his mind flow freely, threading previously unspoken words. "Because it’s like the tables have turned and I didn’t even realize. I couldn't even remember him from before first, but now it’s me who wonders... Does he even think about me while I’m away?”

This admission of something so deeply buried within his heart surprises even him when he sees it take shape. It warms his cheeks and burns his throat on the way out, leaves him exposed, uncomfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Krolia is not staring at him anymore. She may be giving him a moment — all the little privacy they can grant each other in this place. However, after a while, she says:

"I think he does."

"You do?" asks Keith, curious. It's not like Krolia to make such statements out of nowhere.

The Galra smiles and turns her head towards her son again.

"From what I've seen, at least he must miss criticizing your hair."

"I— I suppose?" Keith scratches his neck unconsciously as he lowers his head, hiding his disappointed face. Better than nothing, he guesses…

A soft tap on his hand makes him raise his eyes again. He finds his mother looking amused at him.

"I’m joking. It's just because you clearly inherited it from me. I'd like to understand what is the problem with it," explains Krolia, and Keith snorts.

"Don't take it personally like that, he just fixates on the stupidest things. I know he can be a jerk sometimes, but…"

"But you still love him," she completes, and Keith's breath hitches. The truth is out already, but voicing his admission, naming the feelings within himself this way is different. Still, there's no point denying it. Not here, where he has had all the time of the world to look inside his own heart and judge it like an outsider, to control the flames and settle his troubled heartstrings. 

He gathers courage, lets it out, finally frees himself.

"I do," he admits, and his chest seems to swell up. 

He shakes his head, his lips tensing in a nervous smile that appears and disappears, while he tries to convince himself about the truth of his statement, before he can even try to convince Krolia. "I do, even though we are always at odds. Even if I forgot our real first meeting, and he forgot the moment I… When I think I realized…"

As if one of the Abyss flares hit him, he recalls the day he found himself staring at that sharp face under the purple lights of a Galra ship, dumbfounded by a new smile directed only at him, unlike any other he had seen before. He recalls hearing soft words slipping into his chest like a breeze as he was taking a shaky hand, clasping it when its owner slowly lost consciousness, and he carried him back to the castleship. He recalls running back, trying not to shake too much the passed out boy in his arms, heart enveloped in a new oppressive _something._ Something like fear, something like feathers. He recalls standing in front of a healing pod, waiting restlessly for that boy, who was supposed to annoy him to no end, to come out and make noise again, because the silence of his short absence was suddenly unbearable.

Truly, he thought back then, and he confirms it right now. Something changed inside himself that day. 

At those memories, he loses track of what he was saying, but Krolia just smiles.

“I get it,” she assures. A corner of Keith's mouth crooks to one side, as he looks at his mother with a raised eyebrow.

"But you still don't understand why, right?"

"You said it's the little things," she answers. She moves her leg even closer and supports her hands and chin on her knee. "I won't deny I'm curious."

"Because you don't see it at all, do you?" asks Keith, and he laughs at his mother's playful disbelief expression.

It's not like Krolia is demanding to be convinced, but he thinks that getting some sort of approval from her wouldn't be bad. Maybe he will feel lighter after it, or less foolish.

Maybe he just needs the images and sensations stored in his mind and showcased to them to finally materialize, to take shape, to _exist_ with a name, time, and place.

He starts talking slowly, doubtfully, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“He is… irritating, yeah. He has this loud voice and never shuts up. When he speaks, he shakes his arms and legs and makes everything bigger than it is. He is dramatic, and exaggerated, and never knows when to stop talking. He always says whatever he thinks, no matter what or where he is. But at least you can always be sure… he'd never lie to you."

A smile appears on his face, as he speaks faster and louder.

“He always sees the worst possible outcome for things, except when it’s about stuff he wants to do. When it's his idea, it's always perfect — then of course it's not. He calls me a hot head, then goes and does whatever he pleases when someone is in danger. We almost lost him a couple of times already, you know."

Keith avoids looking at his mother, afraid of being discouraged by whatever face she may be making. He caresses his wolf’s pelt instead, as he speaks again.

“I know it sounds to you like he’s a full-time jerk who lives to annoy me, but whenever I feel I can’t stand him anymore… He goes and does other stuff. Like, when Hunk can't handle a task? He offers to do it himself, even if he complains the whole time it takes. And he always remembers to check the lounge in case Pidge falls asleep there, and when she does, he covers her with a blanket. Says he does the same for his nephews all the time. He's so impatient, but he's still the only one who sits to listen to Coran's stories, and always finds the mice when Allura can't find them, and notices when Shiro is looking a bit under the weather. Then he gets bossy. I hate it when he does that, but it's usually for a reason like that. Stuff I don't notice first-hand."

He pauses, and he hears Krolia shifting by his side, scooting closer.

"And what about you, Keith?" she asks, and he finally lifts his head to meet her gaze. "Does he do anything for you?"

Keith stares into Krolia's piercing eyes, jumping from one to the other, before a smile draws slowly on his face.

"He does. Though it’s not the same with me as with the others.”

“No blanket,” says Krolia.

“No blanket,” confirms Keith. “But I can always count on him when I need him the most. I can complain all I want about how he teases me and seems to enjoy making me mad… but not once has he failed me when I needed his support. He’s… always there. Annoying, loud, whatever you wanna call him: he is always there.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and remembers his darkest days, when Shiro was gone and he would fight everyone while feeling a worthless replacement, a leader incapable of doing anything right.

"When I didn't know what to do, when I made bad decisions, he stood up to me. He never said I wasn't good enough, he just… dragged me out of my head to keep me on track. And after I joined the Blade I came to appreciate that more. Following orders is hard, even when the orders are good. Following a leader like me back then — he could have tried to snatch the position instead. He has what it takes, and… many reasons to try. But he didn’t." 

Keith swallows. He remembers that time at his room, opening the door to a resigned Lance, who was willing to give his place to someone else, going directly to him to discuss it, surprising him so much. But what Keith saw then disturbed him as much as his discoveries about his own heritage. So the decision he made seemed to fit well this superposition of circumstances at the time, opening a clear path to follow and make everyone happy, even if it meant abandoning the first real home he had since he was small. Leaving his friends, his new found family… and leaving his right-hand man too.

He had to say goodbye, carrying all his unsettled feelings with him to an unknown destination while holding to the hope, during his loneliest nights, that even if it didn’t work for him in the end, at least he’d be granting one person the place he deserves, and where he truly belongs. Even when Lance doesn’t seem to believe it himself. For Keith is so painfully clear.

“He is… not really like you think, Krolia,” he finally says, and his eyes get lost in his memories of all the faces he has seen the red paladin make. “He is actually very insecure, and always wants approval from those around him. He wants attention, and he gets it.”

“From you, indeed,” states Krolia.

“From everyone,” grumbles Keith, blushing again. Then he sighs. “But what I’m trying to say is… when you see past all that… he is a good person. He’s loyal and funny, and never allows people to feel left out. He’s a good friend, he always pays attention so no one feels sad in his presence. Even though I’ve seen him sad sometimes. And since none of us can do what he does, he goes through that alone.”

Keith remembers the way Lance’s voice would break when he remembered his mother and his loved ones. He didn’t quite get it at the time. Now that he can relate a bit more, he curses his inability to support people emotionally at the time.

“I hated it,” he mumbles. “To watch the way his eyes would get all shiny when he remembered Earth. He really wants to go home, but he holds back because we’re fighting a war and, well. He is no quitter. No one in the team is. But it's also true the rest of us have way more reasons to fight it than him. I think he stays out of loyalty more than anything, or because it’s the right thing to do. I honestly don’t know.”

He remains quiet for a few seconds, until Krolia’s shoulder bumps softly into his. 

“I see. So… the eyes, then?” she asks, and Keith rolls his eyes.

“I’m trying to be serious here.”

“But the eyes help,” Krolia points out, so neutral it’s hard to tell if she’s really teasing him or not, and her son drops his head, scratching it furiously.

God, if she knew. _Of course_ they help.

When they would defy him, he would follow them like a moth follows the light, oblivious at first to their effect on him, willingly entranced by them later. A good part of Lance’s entire cockiness facade comes from those big blue eyes, crinkling around the corners with mischief when he is teasing, and focused on their targets with deadly accuracy when the sharpshooter is doing his job. His combat stance needed some work, but it would give Keith unidentified shivers everywhere anyway. Something about the radical difference between casual Lance and soldier Lance, perhaps. 

Then it wasn’t just the stance. Slowly but surely, his own eyes started taking notice of other details. The long legs, the broad shoulders, the tiny waist. The dark skin, healthy and soft-looking all over, the flight suit fitting that figure so well. The way his hair would tousle in the wind, and the white of his teeth when he smiles, wide and childlike, accompanying that sing-song laughter — the real one, not the self-deprecating one — that he could hear from time to time. The slim, manly hands holding a rifle and a fork with the same casual ease, the long neck sprouting from the edges of his shirt…

All stuff Keith can’t tell his mother, but hell, they robbed him of sleep alright, more times than he would ever be willing to admit. 

However, these memories trigger the old, dormant anxiety in him, the one he has kept quiet for a year as a way to deal with distance and longing, making his heart suddenly menace with jumping out of his chest, punching out words not thought enough, spilling raw from his gut, as he faces his mother and blurts out:

“Yes, Krolia. The eyes help. The goddamn eyes, and the jokes, and that stupidly competitive side. And when he tries to teach me stuff I don’t get or he pulls me away from crowds without me asking, and when he yelled orders through the comm when I couldn’t do it, and the way everyone obeyed him including me. They all help. And you know what? I can even tolerate when he mocks my hair now. It’s like a stupid thing just between us. And yeah, again, the eyes. I really— I just— I wanna see those eyes again.”

He can barely recognize himself in his own feverish words, pouring out from his mouth and leaving him absolutely naked, exposed like never before. Because all those things, the flaws, the qualities, the smallest details, they all contribute to form a single picture full of colors and shades, one from which Keith couldn’t take his eyes away since the moment he realized his heart was beating faster at the mere sight. A mystery to unfold, in his constant learning of all heart matters. An unresolved business, occupying a good part of his mind. 

That’s why, feeling that dormant ache awakening in his chest, he looks at the infinity of the universe where somewhere, someday, sometime, he believes there will be a promised reunion, and he exhales to control his breathing after his previous outburst, as he says: 

“That’s… Uhm, that’s it. That’s what I mean by all the little things.”

Krolia blinks slowly, and then she smiles. She gets it. Keith knows she gets it. She has loved as much as him before, and she tells it without words, in that strong embrace in which she envelopes her son, while they prepare for the next flare that will take them into the next rollercoaster of memories, and the uncertainty of their tomorrow. 

They only have each other for now. Themselves, and all those little things about the ones they love, nestled inside their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling so nostalgic about fandom around this time last year that I took a few liberties to write this one, also to escape the rigidness of writing "similar to canon" since canon doesn't deserve such delicacy anyway. I hope you liked it and I'd be super happy if you let me know!! 
> 
> Ps: forgot to mention I hc Keith calls Krolia mom way later, in case you find it strange!
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/silverineon) if you want to chat! Thanks a lot for reading <3


End file.
